A Year Being the Cheerleader

33.

Ain't nobody
love me better
Take me higher
Make me feel this way
Ain't nobody love me better than youuuuu!!!

I am not even sure that is how the song goes but that is what I have been hearing from the room down the hall. It has been the only thing that fills the silence, but it was quite unwanted and wanted at the same time. I can't even think properly by the sound. I look up and I open my mouth for the tenth time in the last hour, but this time I am determined to say something.

"Isn't your mom going to do something about that?"

He jolts up in his seat as if he just realized I was there. That's it buddy, I am right here. His usually slick blonde hair is now messy, but handsomely so. It is a little long and some flops into his eyes and makes him look even more like the American Dream Boy. A small smile tugs at my lips, but I refuse to be satisfied. He hasn't even said anything to me.

He shrugs before resuming his surely uncomfortable stance by the window. He glances at me and sighs.

"She probably won't," he replies, his voice low and breathy. "Jamie is family, would you kick your sister's son out of your house?"

I narrow my eyes playfully at him. "I wasn't suggesting for her to kick him out," I state nonchalantly. "But you and I both know that I would kick him out."

"Point taken." He nods, a frown on his face giving him a look of deep concentration.

For the last hour, I have been thinking and trying to lighten the atmosphere before heading to the meat of the matter which is no doubt going to hurt. And so far that was the longest conversation we have had since I got here. It's kind of funny how our positions have been reversed. Usually, it would be him trying to make me smile and brighten the day, but now I am trying to do the same thing. And unlike him, I suck at it.

"A-hem!" I cleared my throat unnecessarily, making sure it was loud for him to hear.

He sighs before looking up at me. His blue eyes stone hard. So unlike the Nate I know. What is it that I have done?

"Nate-"

"Amber-"

We stop speaking for we both started at the same time. The atmosphere then become impossibly more tense and suffocating.

"Nate," he stares into my, pretty pathetic, sad puppy eyes. God, I pick up way too much from Ramona. "What did I do wrong?"

He looks at me blankly for a minute, seeming frozen. My mouth opens unconsciously for me to repeat my question, but he blinks. And the foolish girl I am, I freeze.

He shakes his head, his messy blonde hair almost whiplashing his face.

"I don't know, Amber." He answers quietly and I feel anger inflate me.

How the hell is he not suppose to know? He was the one who refused to talk to me. He was the one who ignored my quadrillion missed calls, text messages and voice messages. Not me! No, not me! Him, him, him!

I really want to vent out my anger at him. According to the therapist I use to go to, most of my emotional stress is from bottling up everything inside. I guess she was right, but who cares. I need to not show my weakness. Let me grip that only streak of control in this impulsive world. Ironically, it is the only thing that keeps me sane.

As weird as it seems, I miss Nate. I never missed anyone before, not even my gram when she died beside me. But foolishly, I miss a blonde haired boy who doesn't even care about our friendship. The shared mud pies, movie nights, chocolate, popcorn, humiliation, kisses....and so on. And they met nothing to him. He is upset at me for nothing. Nothing! He didn't even try to talk about it with me. I know I am not the talkative person, but I am not a reptile.

With pursed lips, I get up from my chair with defiance in my posture. If that's how he wants to play, he can play by himself. I was never good at playing anyways.

"Wait."

One word. One stupid word! And my entire body halts. My palm around the door knob. I make a mental note to wash my hand immediately as I go home. I've been touching way too many door knobs today which many other persons have touched. Although by the way the thing and everything in this house shine, you would wonder if anyone even touched anything.

"I'm sorry." His voice a whisper, cracks at the end.

I grit my teeth, annoyed. So now they press play for the movie, when he has the upper hand, yet it was pause when I was leaving a couple seconds ago. This is irritating my entire being. The amount of messages I sent him with those same words. And now he expects me to forgive him after all that he had put me through. No, this is my fault. I have grown too attached. This is all for the better. I twist the door knob remaining with my main objective like I didn't hear him; getting out of this place.

"Amber," he is now directly behind me and I don't know how that happened. He puts his hand on my shoulder and I turn around face-to-face with him. His eyes filled with a mixture of sympathy, sadness, wariness and even...empathy? "I know."

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